


Bittersweet

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-08
Updated: 2009-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment they meet, Colin and Bradley seem to have wonderful chemistry both on- and off-screen. Which Colin is at a loss to explain, seeing as they’re both straight. But it doesn’t go away, and eventually Bradley insists they deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grasonas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasonas/gifts).



> ♥ This is kind of like my fic **Something Fearless** (the one in which they’re both gay) except this is the one in which they’re both straight. And they have girlfriends. But I hope you’ll find I deal with that situation respectfully. The boys have been brought up well, and don’t take their commitments lightly, not at all.  
>  ♥ This was written in response to a prompt from **gealach_ros**.  
>  ♥ And thank you again to everyone who has contributed to my notions of Colin’s dark sense of humour. You will find that I am still mining your comments to that post I made on LJ!

♦

## Past | Cardiff

Colin Morgan felt almost giddy with happiness. Almost more so than when he’d got the call confirming that the role of Merlin was his. After a day of call–backs with the possibles and running lines with the probables, they’d found their Arthur in the very last guy they’d seen, Colin was sure of it. He’d felt it himself, and he’d glimpsed the look exchanged between Johnny and Julian, the subtle nod of acknowledgement. They’d found Bradley James.

♦

The door thudded behind him as Colin walked out onto the pavement, and then thudded again as someone followed him. A solid warm weight landed on Colin’s back, a whoop sounded in his ear. ‘Nailed it,’ Bradley declared as he settled down to keeping pace at Colin’s side. ‘It’s you and me, sunshine.’

Colin was grinning, but he advised very soberly, ‘It won’t be if you ever call me sunshine again.’

‘What?’ But Bradley was beyond giddy. ‘That was _great_. We just had this… _awesome_ instant sparkage together.’

‘Is that even a word?’

‘It is now.’

‘I think you mean chemistry. On–screen chemistry.’

‘If you say so, Morgan.’

But it was rude to resist Bradley’s exuberance, and possibly also misguided. Self–defeating, even. ‘I do,’ Colin replied, smiling very directly at his new colleague. His co–star. _His destiny_ , came a weird unbidden thought. His smile faltered.

‘Come and have a beer,’ Bradley said, not noticing or maybe just too happy to pay it any mind. ‘God, we have _so much_ to talk about. Oh, but I have to call my Mum first,’ he added, already pulling out his phone. ‘And Jess is there, too.’

All of which made Colin smile again, a bit wryly. A bit fondly. ‘You are such a _girl_ , Bradley,’ he offered, deliberately echoing one of Arthur’s lines from a half–written scene they’d run through that afternoon.

‘You _wish_ , Morgan!’

And so it went on, Bradley alternating a happy exchange with his mother and his girlfriend, and a mutually thorough ribbing with Colin, all the way across the car park. It felt as if they’d already known each other for years.

♦

## Present | London to Paris

‘We have to talk,’ Bradley muttered as he pushed past Colin at St Pancras. Bradley had arrived late, and then hovered restlessly around the edges of the little group of _Merlin_ cast and crew. They were heading to France for their last block of filming in Pierrefonds for the second season. ‘We have to talk – _seriously_.’

‘All right,’ Colin managed to say before Bradley swerved away again.

♦

Once they’d boarded the Eurostar, Colin saved the seat beside him for Bradley, who’d been caught at the far end of the carriage, chatting with someone. In fact, it seemed that everyone wanted to catch up with Bradley that day, and at great length. Nothing really new there, of course, except that Bradley had sounded so urgent about talking with Colin.

By the time they reached the Chunnel, Bradley was still only a third of the way down the aisle, and Colin must appear to be an antisocial bastard who didn’t want to share his space. He sighed. This was particularly rotten timing, as he could really do with the distraction of company. He didn’t want to be thinking about Ailsa and her solemn grey eyes right now, he really didn’t.

Colin sighed again, and pulled out his iPod. Turned the volume up and closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the rhythmic torrent of noise. It worked, to a degree. It would have worked far better if he and Ailsa hadn’t been together so long that almost every song reminded him in one way or another of _her_.

♦

## Past | Kent

The sparkage was still there, sure enough, but it had turned from an inspiration to an irritant. Today, Bradley seemed way beyond irritated. He’d taken Colin aside into a dark corridor just off the massive hall where they were filming various banqueting scenes, and was growling furiously right in his face. _‘You’re not selling me.’_

‘What?’

‘You sold Katie’s beauty, with all your gormless gaping –’

‘That was easy,’ Colin quibbled. ‘That was hardly even acting.’

‘What?’

Colin just glared remorselessly.

‘Hey, it’s not _my_ fault your fucking accent’s fucking impenetrable, Morgan.’

‘It’s not my fault you won’t make a fucking effort to even fucking _listen_ , James.’

Bradley’s answering glare almost reached stratospheric proportions before he reined it in with a show of massive fortitude. ‘ _Look._ It’s the end of the second episode. If Merlin can’t even _see_ Arthur’s roguish charm by now, then no one’s gonna believe they’re gonna become friends.’

 _‘Roguish charm,’_ Colin muttered sarcastically. ‘Good grief…’

‘ _Look!_ You’re gonna be prepared to _die_ for me in the fourth episode, that’s what we were told. If you wanna stuff up your character arc, _Morgan_ , that’s fine by me.’ Bradley stood back and crossed his arms. ‘I didn’t realise you were so _unprofessional_.’

The breath gusted out of Colin like he’d been winded.

‘Hah,’ Bradley continued, looking a bit smug but also rather bitter. ‘Got you where you live there, didn’t I?’

‘Fuck, Bradley…’ he complained.

A silence stretched. Bradley wasn’t giving an inch.

And nor should he. ‘All right,’ Colin said at last. ‘I’m sorry, yeah? Let’s get back in there. I think they’ll give us one last chance.’

Bradley grinned at him, as changeable as the weather. ‘We’ll nail it this time.’

‘Yeah. Absolutely. I promise.’

Bradley had an arm round Colin’s shoulders when they reappeared. James didn’t say anything, but just turned to the crew. ‘Is everyone reset?’

♦

 _‘I wanted to say,’ Arthur announced, ‘I made a mistake. It was unfair to sack you.’_

 _Merlin considered the prince with cautious hope, a tentatively sweet smile curving his lips._

 _‘Now I’m rehiring you.’_

 _And Merlin grinned._

♦

## Present | Picardie

Bradley shadowed Colin up to his hotel room, and followed him in without speaking. Colin dumped his bag, opened the net curtains to let the daylight in, the window to let the fresh air in. Turned towards Bradley, who had stalled just inside the door. ‘What’s up?’ Colin asked.

‘Uh…’

God, he’d never known Bradley James to be lost for words. ‘Come in, all right? Put your bag down, take your coat off. D’you want a cuppa?’ Colin headed for the electric kettle.

‘Colin,’ Bradley said. He’d taken maybe one step further in, and set his bag on the floor. His hands were shoved down hard into his coat pockets. ‘Colin,’ he said, his voice tight.

‘What is it?’ he asked gently.

‘It’s at the point of – of getting serious. With Jess.’

‘Ah.’

‘It’s my own fault,’ Bradley said, rushing on – ‘all this time we’ve been on _Merlin_ , it’s over a year and a half now – well, you know how long it’s been, don’t you? – and I haven’t had a place of my own, which was fine for ages, but I was saying to Mum I’m starting to feel like I need a home somewhere, a _base_ , you know? – even if I’m hardly ever there – and she just said something like, _Yes, it is time, isn’t it?_ – and then I saw that Jess was there, too, she’d just come in, and she and Mum _looked_ at each other – and that night we went out, just the two of us, Jess and me – and she… she…’ An agonised glance. ‘Jess proposed to me.’

Colin snorted. He couldn’t help it. He snorted a surprised laugh. ‘You really _are_ a girl, aren’t you, Bradley James?’

A furiously hurt glare landed upon him.

‘Sorry,’ Colin muttered. He gathered himself. Stepped forward with a bright smile and his hand held out. ‘Congratulations.’

Bradley just stared at him, stony.

‘I’m happy for you,’ Colin tried.

Bradley rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘Is that really all you have to say?’

‘I like Jessica,’ Colin offered. ‘She’s great.’ A memory rose in his mind of curly red hair that Jessica couldn’t tame no matter what she tried, a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks beautiful like the Milky Way, the most infectious mischievous broad grin, and a sense of humour that could cope with both Bradley’s and Colin’s. ‘She’s marvellous.’

‘She _is_ marvellous,’ Bradley bleakly agreed.

‘And I actually love the fact that she did the proposing. Just don’t expect me to stand as godparent if the kids are gingers.’

Bradley exploded. _‘For fuck’s sake, Colin, you utter **wanker**.’_ And he grabbed up his bag and stormed out.

Colin found he had to sit down on the floor before he fell down, dizzy with an unbearable unspeakable sense of loss.

♦

## Past | Glamorgan

Colin was slouched on one of the uncomfortable folding chairs in the catering tent trying to read, when Bradley wandered by peering suspiciously at the contents of his sandwich. When he saw Colin, he backtracked, dropped into a seat across the table, and leaned in towards him. ‘You consume a lot of green stuff, Morgan.’

‘Huh,’ he responded in a vaguely positive tone, not in the mood to be teased about his eating habits yet again. It had gotten old _weeks_ ago.

Bradley pushed a sandwich into his line of sight, intruding _way_ into Colin’s personal space, holding it so Colin could see the cut edge. ‘Is this the good kind of green stuff, or the bad?’

Colin peered at it for a moment, and then waved it away impatiently. ‘Bad. Definitely the bad. They’re trying to poison you, Bradley.’

‘Huh.’ Bradley sat back and put the sandwich down on his plate, gazing at it with a prissy kind of distaste.

‘You know you can’t trust the Welsh,’ Colin added in a loud stage whisper. ‘Treacherous lot, the Welsh. Just as soon kill you as go fishing.’

Bradley looked at him flatly for a moment. Then looked around them at all the Welsh crew and extras and caterers – who were pretty much just ignoring them. Looked back at Colin. And suddenly burst out laughing. A big spluttering rollicking laugh that came from the very core of him.

Colin watched with a smile growing into a grin. Eventually, as Bradley finally calmed down again, Colin chuckled, and asked, ‘What happened to that vanilla sense of humour of yours…?’

‘My Mum said to tell you, Morgan, that you’re a wicked influence on me.’

‘That so?’

‘I guess you spiced up my humour. It’s all the way to… black peppercorn now.’

Colin snorted a laugh. ‘Cardamom seen that coming… Ah,’ he amended in the inspiration of the moment, ‘ _cumin_. Cardamom seen that cumin!’

Bradley did his best contorted sceptical look. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘It didn’t work with the accent?’

‘Mate, _nothing_ works with your accent…’

A beat passed. Bradley had turned a bit shamefaced, glancing covertly once at Colin, apparently wondering if he’d totally destroyed their brief rare moment of camaraderie.

 _Just_ before it got deadly serious, Colin grinned at the man.

Then Bradley was spluttering into laughter again, and this time Colin joined him.

♦

## Present | Picardie

Colin knew where to find Bradley later that evening, of course. The hotel had a small room which they called a gym because it contained a running machine and a few random items such as a never–quite–fully–inflated football and a skipping rope. And there was Bradley, loping down the miles with his iPod turned so loud that Colin could identify the song even over the noise of the treadmill.

Colin pushed his hands into his jeans pockets, and leaned gracelessly against the wall just outside Bradley’s direct line of sight. Bradley’s eyes had flickered towards him once as he came in, but since then he’d stared resolutely ahead, pounding on doggedly. Eventually, though, Bradley couldn’t ignore him any longer. He slowed the pace of the machine so that he was striding, took a long drink of water, and then once he was warmed down and breathing regularly again, Bradley cut off the music, tugged out the earbuds, and rubbed his towel over his face and then his hair. Colin felt a creeping sense of dread.

‘What?’ Bradley demanded as he stepped off onto the floor.

‘I’m _sorry_ ,’ Colin said. ‘That all went horribly wrong.’

‘Yeah, you could say that.’

He grimaced in frustration. ‘I don’t understand what the problem is. Jessica is really great, and I know things are gonna change, but I’m happy for you, mate, and –’

‘For god’s sake, Colin,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

Bradley glared sharply at him, then took another drink of water. Glanced at the closed door as if to make sure they were alone and wouldn’t be overheard. And Bradley finally said, ‘This thing. This sparkage. This thing we don’t talk about.’

‘The on–screen chemistry?’

‘The _off_ –screen chemistry, you wanker,’ Bradley retorted, though by now he sounded merely tired.

A long silence stretched.

Eventually Colin warily asked, ‘What about it?’

‘Well,’ Bradley said slowly as if explaining it to a five–year–old, ‘if I get engaged to Jess, that kind of cuts out other options.’

‘Other options?’

‘Are you being exceptionally dim tonight, Morgan?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Right. Well. Never mind.’ And Bradley caught up his towel, water bottle and iPod, and stalked off.

After a moment, something ghastly finally dawned on him. Colin stumbled through the door and into the corridor to see Bradley’s retreating back. ‘You mean, you haven’t said _yes_ yet?’ he called after him.

But Bradley just dismissed him with a sharp wave of his hand.

 _Oh god._ He hadn’t said yes.

♦

## Past | Cardiff

They were working long hours and even longer days, but for a while there Colin hated the occasional breaks and couldn’t wait to get back to the sets. He spent all his time off looking forward to seeing Bradley again – until even Ailsa, on only her second weekend visit to Cardiff, was driven to politely mention that Colin’s conversation was starting to get a little tedious.

When they were filming, he would seek out Bradley’s company in between scenes, like a schoolboy with a crush. And Bradley wasn’t much better. They would crack jokes and tease and muck around together, as if they were laying siege to each other and a laugh meant conquest or surrender, as if seducing each other and a laugh was an orgasm and they were trying for multiples…

Colin was very close to making a complete fool of himself. But he couldn’t help it. Now that he and Bradley had finally clicked, it was as if this amazing energy flowed freely between them. When they were close to each other, it crackled.

♦

‘Jess is coming here next weekend,’ Bradley announced over lunch one day. For once he seemed strangely sober.

‘Nice,’ said Colin. ‘Ailsa will be here, too.’

‘Well, I was thinking,’ said Bradley, gazing off somewhere, and attempting to appear casual. ‘Maybe we should get together on Saturday night. The four of us. Dinner and a movie, or something. Grab a drink after.’

‘Like… a double date?’

Bradley glanced at him sharply, no doubt picking up on his dubious tone. They considered each other for long moments, perhaps imagining how it would be. The four of them. The two young men and their girls, out on the town, perhaps having a drink or two too many. Perhaps dancing. The boys thinking about getting lucky. The girls giggling with each other, sharing secrets, comparing notes… The four of them…

‘Or maybe not,’ said Bradley.

‘No, I didn’t think so.’

‘Right.’ Bradley stood, and found an unnecessary adjustment to make with his costume. ‘See you on set, then.’

‘Sure. Yeah.’

Bradley nodded at him curtly, and strode off.

♦

## Present | Picardie

Options… _The other options,_ Bradley had said… Colin mulled this over during the next couple of days, while Bradley was a bit cool and distant with him, certainly not his usual bright self, but otherwise fairly normal.

Colin wasn’t stupid. He knew what Bradley meant. But it wasn’t _really_ an option, was it? Because it wasn’t anything more than just… sparkage or chemistry or something. What was Bradley going on about? They had girlfriends, families, careers to consider. Reputations for credibility and professionalism to build. So what if they also had this strange unprecedented accidental attraction to each other? What was Bradley even bringing it up now for? Surely they had accepted and dismissed it months ago. Filed it under _Shit happens_.

Colin sighed. He was trying to read in the hotel lounge, because that’s where the only comfortable chairs were, but he was restless, and Bradley – carrying on a convivial conversation with Tony at the far end of the room, with two glasses, a bottle of dark red wine and lots of mutual giggling at each other’s stories – Bradley was a constant distraction. In between sniggers with Tony, Bradley kept glancing over at Colin as if he just couldn’t quite leave him alone. And Colin found he couldn’t quite leave Bradley alone either.

In the end he gave up. Colin put his book down, headed out and walked, he hardly knew where. He just walked. Until at last the night was dark and quiet, and when he finally made it back to the hotel he had to wake up the manager and ask her in his politest rudimentary French to let him back in, because the main doors had been locked.

 _The other options,_ Bradley had said. But Jessica had proposed, and Ailsa… was not the sort to take things lightly. Colin liked having a serious girl in his life. There _were_ no other options.

♦

## Past | Picardie

It was the most innocuous thing. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it, he might not have even noticed, if he hadn’t had this strange crackling flow of energy going with Bradley.

As Merlin and Arthur they touched each other as a matter of course a hundred times a day. As Bradley and Colin they respected each other’s boundaries, even when they were mucking about like two prattish boys. But that morning one too many people wanted to crowd into the van for the trip to Pierrefonds. Colin, being at the far end of a bench seat, twisted himself round a bit sideways so his hips and shoulders weren’t taking up quite so much width. Bradley, who was beside him, did the same, pushing back against Colin so they were kind of half spooning. Well, maybe a third.

Early morning, and relatively uncaffeinated, still dozy and bed–warm even in the chill morning air. And Bradley pushing up close against him, the back of his thigh along the front of Colin’s, his rear canted against Colin’s hip, his flank pressed warm to Colin’s chest. And Bradley was as aware of it all as Colin was, Colin could read that in the way he held himself, a bit tense but trying to appear casual.

After long still moments, they were off, and the rocking of the van shifting down the kerb onto the road seemed to prompt Colin to quite naturally lift his arm and lay it along the back of the seat. Bradley leaned infinitesimally into what was in effect his embrace. Colin closed his eyes. Breathed in the warmth and the scent of Bradley James.

And if he’d have nodded off just then, his head might have tilted slowly forward to lie against Bradley’s shoulder, to wallow in the comfortable contact. It might have. In fact, it did. He found himself snuffling peacefully against layers of fleece and wool and cotton, against a broad strong shoulder that accepted him gracefully. Bradley just chattered on with the others as if nothing extraordinary was happening. But it was. Extraordinary.

Colin was awake and aware for every moment of it.

♦

## Present | Picardie

The following evening in the hotel lounge, Bradley dropped into the chair next to Colin. ‘It’s not nothing, you know,’ he commented in tones that tried to be ordinary.

‘What’s that?’ Colin asked. Though he feared that he already knew exactly.

‘What we feel for each other. It’s not nothing.’

‘Huh,’ said Colin very noncommittally.

Bradley kept talking, as if they were having a completely normal everyday conversation. ‘I probably would have gone ahead and proposed already. To Jess, I mean. Maybe once I’d signed the contract for the second season, so I knew my income was secure for a while. I mean, I’m gonna be twenty–six soon. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.’

Colin unwound a little, put his book down on the table, and considered Bradley. Then, very carefully, he offered, ‘You’ve got to do what’s right for you, mate. If you have doubts about what you want, then don’t do it. But… Jessica really is marvellous. I can’t see it as a bad thing, marrying her. No matter how complicated the rest of your life is, you can’t possibly have doubts about her.’

‘No,’ Bradley agreed, ‘I don’t have any doubts about Jess.’

‘Well, then –’

‘Doubts about what I want,’ Bradley blurted. ‘Like you said. Doubts about… you and me.’

‘No,’ Colin said, sitting up straight. ‘No. Don’t make me a part of this.’

‘You’re already part of it,’ Bradley insisted. ‘We’re in this together. We’ve got to work out what’s right for _us_.’

‘No. No, we don’t. No way, mate.’ Colin got out of there. And he went for another long walk. This time he was angry. And he did not find any peace out there in the hushed, expectant, restless night.

♦

## Past | Picardie

‘This morning in the van,’ Bradley said.

Colin froze for a moment, and then sighed. Raised his head from his book. He was in the hotel lounge, sitting at the bar leaning forward on his elbows. The place was empty otherwise.

Bradley slid onto the stool next to Colin’s. Put both of his hands flat on the bar and stared down at them. ‘I was… You had me… Well. I’ve been… _on_. Excited. Ever since. All day.’

Colin flushed with embarrassment, with shame, with… hunger. But he didn’t look away.

After a moment, Bradley turned his head to meet his gaze. They watched each other for long wary moments. Then Bradley’s gaze slipped down to Colin’s mouth, and apparently unconsciously the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his own lips. Any moment now he would lean in close. He would press a kiss to Colin’s mouth. And Colin would… respond. And…

He felt quite shocked. He would respond. For god’s sake… This had to end.

‘No,’ Colin said, his tones hard.

‘No?’

‘This isn’t real. It’s just an accident. Some kind of chemistry as actors, or in the roles maybe, spilling over. And even if it _was_ real, we have girlfriends to consider. I am _not_ about to be unfaithful.’

Bradley scowled irritably. ‘I’m not the type to be unfaithful either, you know.’

Colin looked at him carefully. The moment, the impulse, the potential for a kiss had been safely obliterated. ‘I know,’ he agreed, able now to concede the point.

Bradley got up from the stool. Turned away. Took a step. But then he turned back, and his face was haunted. And he asked hoarsely, ‘What if it _is_ real?’ Then he walked away.

♦

## Present | Picardie

Colin tracked Bradley down. Which wasn’t difficult, because he was just in their trailer, but Bradley rarely retreated there during the day. He usually preferred to hang around with whichever cast and crew were on set and idle. ‘Hey,’ said Bradley quietly, distracted by something to do with Arthur’s belt which didn’t seem to be sitting quite right.

Colin just launched right into a tirade, all pointing fingers and barely–banked–down fury. ‘We can’t just throw everything away for something that might not even be real. We don’t _know_ , do we? Maybe it wouldn’t amount to anything at all. Maybe once the curiosity is satisfied, it’ll all just go away. And we’d have lost _everything_.’

Bradley just considered him mildly through all this. ‘Well,’ he replied once Colin was done, ‘maybe we should put it to the test.’

 _‘What?’_

‘You heard me. Let’s see if it’s real or not.’

Colin took a moment with that. Swallowed hard. ‘You mean, cheat on Jessica and Ailsa?’

‘How else will we know?’

An image came unbidden to his mind. It felt familiar, as if he’d dreamed of it time and again. Bradley, leaning in close and pressing his mouth to Colin’s. Bradley, his hands slipping confidently around Colin’s waist. Bradley, hard against him. _Hard._ Strange and demanding. But also… Bradley, his blue eyes warm and candid and brimming over with affection.

Colin flushed, and turned away a little. ‘Maybe it’s better to leave it as a possibility. The one that got away… Leave it to the imagination. Kind of poignant, you know? Bittersweet.’

Bradley took a long cool look at him. ‘My imagination has had its fun. I think maybe I want more than that now.’

‘No. I am _not_ ruining things with Ailsa for the sake of a _maybe_.’

‘You _want_ me to marry Jess?’

‘You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be happy with her!’

‘And then every time we meet, you and I,’ Bradley continued, ‘you’ll wonder, _What if him and me…?_ You’ll wish, _If only we had… but I just wasn’t brave enough._ ’

The fury roiled within him. ‘You’re so fucking full of yourself.’

‘I want to be full of you, I think.’

‘Shut it, Bradley! I’m not listening to this.’

‘Colin –’

 _‘No!’_ And he slammed out of the trailer and stalked back towards the castle. He drew a few stares. Poor dear mild–mannered Colin Morgan in a _mood_ , that nice sweet boy… They all indulged him, but he made the effort to be even more scrupulously polite and hard–working than usual that afternoon. It had rarely cost him so enormously.

♦

 _‘I am not questioning your loyalty, Merlin.’_

 _‘I should think not! Every single thing I’ve done since I came to Camelot has been for you.’_

 _‘And I appreciate it,’ the prince graciously replied._

 _Merlin had never felt so inclined to hit the smug arrogant prat. But he loved him._ Oh god, he loved him…

♦

## Past | London

‘Exactly _what_ has got you in such a tizz, Morgan? Do they really breed their kids so conservative in Armagh…?’

Colin set his chin mulishly. ‘Of course not.’

‘Then _what_? Why does it matter so much if the fans think that Arthur and Merlin are doing the wild thing?’

‘ _Some_ of the fans,’ he quibbled, before retorting, ‘Because!’

‘Because what?’

Colin glared at him. ‘Cos what are they picking up on, you idiot? We’re not playing them that way. It never even occurred to me that –’

Bradley barked a laugh. ‘It occurred to me once or twice. Actually.’

That kind of threw him for a moment. Colin felt his glare turn into a quizzical stare. ‘But you don’t _play_ it that way, do you?’

‘Well, no… But, Colin –’

‘Then _what_ are they picking up on, Bradley? You and me? This stupid sparkage thing of ours? Because –’ He took a deep breath. ‘Because I thought we were better actors than that!’

Bradley’s cool worldliness had finally dissolved into a misgiving or two. ‘Colin –’

‘And who else is picking up on it, Bradley? Tell me that! _Who else?!’_

The misgivings had become unhappiness. ‘Anyway, it’s not stupid,’ Bradley muttered.

Colin just growled at him, and stalked off.

♦

## Present | Picardie

Colin tracked Bradley down again. Which wasn’t difficult, because he was in his hotel room – but they’d been avoiding each other’s hotel rooms for a long while now. Bradley raised his brow when he answered the knock and found Colin standing there, but he wordlessly stepped back and let him in.

Well, they both knew what the topic of conversation was. So it wasn’t really a surprise when Bradley simply asked, as if they were already in the middle of it, ‘What’s the problem? What’s _really_ the problem?’

‘It would change everything,’ he replied with raw honesty. ‘And we don’t even know –’

‘Then let’s find out.’

‘I can’t. I’ve got to do the right thing by Ailsa.’

‘I have to _know_ ,’ Bradley insisted.

‘You’re really prepared to cheat on Jessica?’

‘That’s not fair. I can’t marry her if I don’t _know_.’

‘Don’t marry her, then.’

They were both shocked into silence.

Bradley tried to speak, but apparently couldn’t.

Colin was as shocked as he’d ever been. Shocked at himself. Finally he repeated in a whisper, _‘Don’t marry her.’_

Bradley breathed, ‘Colin…’ as if hardly daring to believe. All the possibilities were there, vibrating between them. Bradley drew closer, wanting a kiss. Wanting to do something about this.

Colin stopped him with an outraised hand. ‘Not yet. Not until we’re both free.’

‘Colin, please…’

‘I couldn’t – Anyway, that’s no way to start a relationship, is it? With a lie. Cos then we’ll always know _that’s_ what we’re capable of. Lying and cheating. And we’ll never entirely trust each other.’

‘A relationship…?’ Bradley faltered. ‘What happened to _once the curiosity is satisfied_?’

Colin shook his head. ‘I was trying to resist. I can’t fight it any more.’

‘Then,’ said Bradley, very hushed, ‘what do you mean to do about Ailsa…?’

 _God…_ It was shameful. Colin turned away a little, and confessed, ‘She broke up with me already. On the weekend. Probably around about the same time as Jessica was proposing.’

A long silence.

When Colin found the courage to face Bradley again, he found the man contorted with grief and fury. ‘I’m sorry,’ Colin said.

‘Oh god, you utter _fuckwit_ , Morgan. This past week – You put us through all this agonising for nothing?’

‘For Jessica,’ he offered. ‘For you and Jessica.’

‘And now you want me to trust you? You talk about how it’s so bad to start with a lie, and –’ Bradley asked in a whisper, _‘and now you want me to trust you?’_

Colin had no better answer than what he’d given already. ‘Not yet. Not yet.’

♦

## Past | Cardiff

Once they started filming the second season, Colin and Bradley tried not to be alone together. This plan was doomed to failure at some point, of course. One evening in Cardiff they found themselves at one of the local pubs, sitting next together in a booth, weary with their heads lolling back against the high bench seat. Various people had already drifted off back home or to the hotel, and once Katie and Geraint left then Bradley and Colin were alone.

They sat there quietly for a long while, sipping at their beers. Under the circumstances, there could be only one subject in Colin’s mind, and he suspected the same was true for Bradley. Well. This was only his second beer, but Colin had a nice mellow buzz going on. And there wasn’t quite the same tension between them any more. They seemed to have got past that, at any rate. They almost felt comfortable together again. So maybe it was safe to satisfy a little of his curiosity.

Colin cleared his throat. ‘Have you ever…?’ he asked, glancing at Bradley. ‘With a guy, I mean.’

‘Twice,’ Bradley immediately answered.

‘Yeah?’ Colin looked at him, but Bradley didn’t seem fazed or embarrassed. Colin wanted details, but he wasn’t quite sure how to ask.

As if he’d read Colin’s mind, Bradley continued, ‘Once, back in school. That was just kissing, really. Quite innocent. And then once with a guy at drama school. Ironically, it was through him I met Jess. Afterwards, I mean. I met her afterwards.’

‘Huh,’ said Colin, intelligently.

‘Well, we played footy together, too, him and me. It was after a game we’d lost. Kind of a comforting–each–other thing. Commiserating.’

Colin waited a moment, but then he prompted, ‘Quite innocent…?’

Bradley looked at him, deadpan. ‘No. Not in the slightest.’

Colin flushed, and sought refuge in his beer.

But of course Bradley asked, ‘Have _you_ ever?’

Colin shook his head mutely. Then cleared his throat again and offered, ‘Not the sort of thing I’d wanna tell Mum about.’

‘She’d still love you.’

‘Not the point.’

Bradley was considering him with some interest. ‘What _is_ the point, then?’

He just kind of shrugged this off, and mumbled something about an early call the next day. And Bradley was considerate enough to let him be.

♦

## Present | Paris

On the Saturday morning, Colin accompanied Bradley to the Gare du Nord. They sat across from each other at a tiny table, with two coffees steaming between them, waiting for Bradley’s Eurostar service to be called. They were silent, mostly.

Until there were only a few minutes left, and Colin said with an ounce of trepidation, ‘She’ll think you’re saying yes. She’ll think you’re making the effort to go back to London so that you can say yes properly.’

Bradley grimaced unhappily. ‘Not if she really thinks about it. She’ll realise. Anyway. I have to do it in person. I owe her that much. I owe her a great deal.’

‘You and me…’ said Colin.

Bradley looked at him, drawn and pale but marginally less unhappy.

‘Sorry. I’m not prepared to… I don’t think we should _do_ anything right away.’ Now Colin was the one grimacing. ‘Anyway, you might change your mind once you’re there. She’s so bloody marvellous. I wouldn’t blame you.’

‘I won’t change my mind, for god’s sake. Not after all these months of –’

‘Regardless,’ Colin said, butting in. If he ever heard the word _sparkage_ again he thought he might kill someone. ‘Let’s give it a bit of time. You should mourn her. I’m still mourning Ailsa. I really… I really did love her, Bradley.’

‘I know,’ he quietly replied.

‘And I’d been kind of hoping I could still work that out. So, let’s leave it for… a few weeks. Let’s leave it until… the day after the wrap party, whenever that is. Let’s start fresh.’

‘God, I must be mad, taking up with you, Colin Morgan.’

He nodded, sadly, thinking of all that Bradley was about to lose. ‘You must be mad.’

♦

## Past | Dublin

During the entire journey to see Ailsa, Colin’s mind was full of Bradley. The yearning look Bradley had thrown Colin as he’d walked away from the set hand–in–hand with the wonderful Jessica. God, they all _adored_ Jessica… She and Bradley were heading down to Devon for the weekend, to stay with Bradley’s Mum – who also adored Jessica. Colin had watched them go, wishing somehow that it was _him_ accompanying Bradley to Devon, just Colin alone with Bradley, or that Bradley was coming to Dublin with Colin, and they had no one else there to visit. No one to share each other with.

None of which made much sense – at least not the kind of sense that could be lived with. Colin had forced himself to turn away before he actually lost sight of them. It was ridiculous. He’d see Bradley on the Monday morning anyway, when they all met up at St Pancras for their last block of filming in France. That wasn’t much more than two days away. Three sleeps. What was the use of treasuring that last look of Bradley’s, and continually holding it up to his mind’s eye, examining it from this angle and that? What was the point in wallowing in it? But, oh god, the _yearning_ …

♦

Ailsa had to say it three times before the words finally got through to him, and shattered the life he’d been trying to construct.

‘Your heart’s not in it any more.’

He stared at her, horrified. Devastated. ‘But, Ailsa –’

‘I’m sorry, Colin. It’s taken me a long while, but I’ve made up my mind.’

When he finally managed to gather his wits, he spoke as eloquently as possible about long–term relationships, about the friendship at the core of them, about how the romance might wax and wane a little over time but would always be there in one form or other, about how the core friendship of Colin and Ailsa remained solid and would see them through.

She watched him during all of that with her solemn clear grey eyes and her straight dark hair falling long either side of her face like water. She listened very carefully. But when he was done, she shook her head. ‘You know it’s not like that any more. Yes, we’re friends, and we always were. _Loving_ friends, _good_ friends, Colin, but nothing more. There’s no romance left to rekindle.’

‘Ailsa, please… We were wonderful together.’

A sad smile as she lifted a hand and ran gentle fingertips down his face. ‘We _were_ , yes. Let’s remember that. Let’s finish this cleanly, so that we can remember that.’

And in the end, he had to honour that wish. He owed it to her. And to himself. He held her close, one last time, pressed a kiss to her hair, and then he walked away. Cleanly.

♦

He felt as if half of him had been sliced away in one savagely clean cut. Or was it… everything that _wasn’t_ him? It was gone, anyway, whatever it was. And he felt raw, cold, bare. Completely exposed.

He went to ground in a hotel, and he spent the long hours remaining of that ghastly weekend trying to paper over the damage. He managed a rough job of it. And then early on Monday morning he flew to Heathrow, caught trains and the tube to St Pancras.

And Bradley pushed past him, muttering, ‘We have to talk.’

♦

## Future | London

There was a thumping at the front door at ten on the Sunday morning. Colin opened it, biting at his lower lip in nervousness, knowing it was Bradley. An exasperated Bradley. ‘Colin Morgan, you are the most contrary man in the world.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘I came to find you at the party last night –’

‘We said we’d wait till the day after –’

‘I waited until midnight! Then I found out you’d left already!’

‘– and I hadn’t realised it would be your birthday,’ Colin said apologetically. ‘Did you have plans for today?’

Bradley considered him. ‘Not really. Already called Mum. Guess you’re my birthday present.’

Colin tried to smile brightly. ‘Um… I kept the receipt. You know – in case you want to return me.’

Bradley glowered. Of course he was still standing there in the hallway. ‘Gonna let me in? Then we’ll see. I’ll try you out. But I don’t think they’ll accept the return of damaged goods.’

Colin cleverly retorted with something that sounded embarrassingly close to a whimper, and then he stepped back inside, held the door open wide. Closed and locked it, before turning to Bradley. Became aware that he’d just run his hands down his thighs, and he couldn’t quite lift his gaze to meet Bradley’s, although of course Bradley would hardly require such obvious clues to read his fear. ‘Um. Coffee,’ Colin started babbling, leading the way through to the kitchen where the sunshine spilled in through gold autumn leaves and high windows. ‘I made a pot of coffee. And have you eaten? I could make toast. I got that gooseberry jam you like, and –’

A hand on his elbow spinning him round, another hand reassuringly cupping his face, fingertips pushing up towards the tender skin of his ear, and Bradley looking at him earnestly. Lovingly. Hungrily. _‘Shut **up** , Morgan, for the love of god,’_ he whispered. And then their mouths met – clumsy, their noses clashing – but then they got the alignment right, and they were kissing as if they’d been famished for so long that now they’d never quite get enough. Kissing, and Colin at last with his hands on Bradley’s waist, and the man was trembling, no doubt almost as scared as Colin – and Bradley broke the kiss, but mouthed up Colin’s cheek to nibble at his ear, murmuring breathily, ‘Bed. Sorry, but – bed. You probably wanna wait –’

‘I don’t –’ as he squirmed under Bradley’s attentions, running his hands up Bradley’s strong back to marvel at his shoulder–blades.

‘– take our time, but –’

 _‘Bradley…’_

‘Don’t make me wait any longer.’

‘No.’

Bradley groaned in frustration. ‘God, Colin, _please_ –’

His hands travelling down again and then his arms gathering Bradley in close, even while he leaned back just far enough so they could focus on each other. ‘No, I won’t make you wait any longer,’ he clarified.

Relief and fear warred on Bradley’s beautiful face. Colin reached up to cup it in an echo of how Bradley had reassured him, and he leaned close again to press a kiss to lips that parted in surrender under his barest touch. And then he was leading Bradley hand–in–hand to his bedroom.

♦

It was all too new, too strange. Colin couldn’t quite lose himself in the passion of it. He loved it, he totally loved it, because it was everything he’d been yearning for and because it was so unexpected as well. They tumbled back and forth on the sheets, moving against each other, naked and honest, Colin and Bradley, experiencing. They were both hard, so hard, but Bradley was also starting to slip away into the heat of it, his eyes soft, cheeks flushed, breath panting.

‘My first time,’ said Colin, ‘with a guy.’ While there was still a chance of exchanging words. Words that made sense, anyway.

‘My third, kinda,’ Bradley returned. ‘Third time lucky.’

‘Hope so.’

‘Fuck me,’ said Bradley, demanding. ‘Colin, _fuck me_.’

‘Oh god!’ Utterly shocking. Delicious, terrifying, shocking.

‘Please –’

‘But, Bradley…’ Colin scrambled mentally. ‘D’you do that before? With your drama school guy, your footy mate?’

‘No. No.’ Those blue eyes gazing candidly up at him, as soft and wide as a spring sky. ‘Just a finger. He used – And since then, on my own – Fingers. You won’t hurt me.’

‘I won’t?’

‘Fuck – I _want_ you to hurt me. Take my virginity. Oh god, I’ve been waiting for this. Waiting for you. I’ve been –’

Bradley was almost hyperventilating, breathing in hard gasps. Colin slid down beside him to hold him close, to rock him gently. ‘Hey, it’s all right, Bradley. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.’

‘Put it all beyond any doubt whatsoever.’

‘There’s still doubt?’ Colin asked.

‘No. None at all.’ Those blue eyes staring at him, into him, as clear and open and pure as spring water. ‘Take what’s already yours, Colin Morgan.’

♦

Bradley James on his back, hot and heavy and so utterly relaxed and in–the–zone that he was difficult to handle. Especially for a first timer. But Colin was determined enough to made it work, and soon he was deep inside the man, his strokes long and careful and deliberate. Moving over him, and watching him with awe.

‘All right, Bradley?’ he asked, just to be sure, to re–establish contact. ‘All right?’

‘Yes. Yes. _Yours._ ’

Colin wrapped a hand around Bradley’s cock, and began slowly pumping it, matching the deliberate rhythm.

A broken cry – _‘Yours!’_

‘All right,’ he soothed. ‘All right…’

‘Not yet,’ came an obstinate protest. ‘ _Not_ all right. Want what’s _mine_.’

And Bradley was curling up, those impressive abdominals contracting – Bradley’s hands grasping at Colin’s hips – and he was shunting himself down harder upon Colin, gripping himself harder on Colin – and Colin was the one gasping now, finally losing himself – losing all thought, all care, all consideration – _‘Bradley!’_

‘You’re mine, god damn you,’ the man was muttering, even as he spilled over with a growl and then a surprised grunt. ‘Mine.’

‘Yours,’ Colin promised – nothing but trembling flesh now, the seed pouring out of him – nothing but the hand and the mouth and the cock and the balls that pleasured Bradley James – nothing but the endless impossible pleasure –

And then he was falling, and they were grasping each other fiercely, making strange demanding nonsensical promises, until the world fell away, too, and there was nothing left but the dream of the two of them alone together, bound up tight together in the darkness.

♦

## Future | Mull

Bradley came to Mull with him, of course, which was kind of embarrassing on occasion because there was just no hiding any more that they were boyfriends. But most of the time Colin was too happy to care. _He was so fucking **happy**._ He didn’t need food, he didn’t need sleep, he didn’t need anything beyond what he had. And he had work, lots of work, long days and nights embodying the oddly intriguing Calum MacLeod, and that was brilliant. He had Bradley, lots of Bradley, his patient unobtrusive company on the set, his thoughtful surprising advice when asked and his unconditional support when not, his delightful foolishness when Colin needed a moment of lightness. He had shagging, lots of shagging, this strange new configuration of two unlikely bodies, perfect and beautiful and unexpected and endless. He didn’t know how to explain it to himself let alone anyone else. So for now he filed it under _Magic happens_. And he let himself revel in it.

♦

 _‘I like you,’ Calum said. ‘Nikki?’_

 _‘Yes?’_

 _‘Can I marry you?’_

 _She grinned, bittersweet._

♦

When Colin finally sobered a little, he took his phone off to the place on the island where the mobile reception was the most reliable, and he called Ailsa. Told her what had happened. Stumbled through some garbled words about always having tried his best to do the right thing. Apologised with a grief that felt wrenched from his very soul.

‘I understand,’ she said at last. ‘Thank you for explaining. I didn’t really understand before.’

‘I’m _sorry_ ,’ he said again, helplessly.

‘No, actually, it’s all right. That’s where your heart went when it left me. Of course you had to follow.’ And she wept.

He sat there with her quietly as the evening drew in around him, and he cried a bit, too, the tears icy on his cheeks in the cold wind – until at last they were both ready to finally let each other go. They wished each other well. And then Colin went back to the hotel to re–discover his heart. Bradley had been keeping it warm for him.

♦

## Future | London

When they were in London together on Saturdays, they’d go to the markets near Colin’s flat, and they’d wander around buying fresh bread and organic vegetables and proper imported cheese that tasted miles better than anything in the supermarket – and Bradley would devour rolls containing all kinds of weird meats, and Colin might buy himself a new beanie hat from the woman who had a stall full of her own hand–knitting. Every now and then someone would glance at them as if in half–recognition, but for now they were still pretty much safely anonymous. Colin thought the beanie hats helped and Bradley thought he was mental. ‘If you want a disguise to work,’ he explained with greatly exaggerated patience, ‘it helps if you don’t tell everyone about it.’

Colin chuckled, and argued, ‘But then the beanie hat becomes like a Do Not Disturb sign, you know?’

Bradley heaved a sigh. ‘You couldn’t possibly be any more disturbed than you already are, Morgan.’ Then he lifted his head as if scenting one thing in particular through the myriad. ‘Coffee. There’s freshly ground coffee someplace nearby. _God_ , that’s good.’

Colin followed him as they wound their way through the mass of people, everything vivid around them, the colours and the sounds and the smells, and the bright flavour of the berry smoothie he’d just drunk and the knobbled texture of the beanie Colin suspected had been made just for him. And Bradley, so very vivid in himself. Bradley James. A feast for all his senses that Colin never wanted to end. ‘Marry me,’ said Colin. ‘Bradley, marry me.’

‘Mmm, what?’ Bradley asked contentedly over his shoulder, still on the hunt for proper coffee.

‘Well, you know. Be my partner, or whatever.’

Bradley stopped abruptly, and turned just as Colin walked right into him. They steadied each other for a moment, and then stood there separately, looking at each other. Not touching. The flow of people swept around them. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You’re proposing to me?’

Colin shrugged. ‘Yeah. I think we should… come to the markets _every_ Saturday. Like, forever.’

‘Mmm,’ Bradley mused. ‘How about that? Third time lucky, I guess.’

‘ _Third_ time? Who was the other one?’

‘I think you’re missing the point, Morgan.’

‘Me, and Jessica, and…?’

‘I’m saying _yes_ , you idiot.’

‘Huh,’ said Colin, intelligently. Romantically. ‘It’s my first time,’ he felt obliged to point out.

‘Your first time proposing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re a lucky git, aren’t you? Cos you’ll never be rejected. Ever.’

‘I’m the luckiest man alive. Is that an awful cliché?’

‘Yes.’ And Bradley repeated, _‘Yes.’_ Apparently just in case.

 _‘Yes,’_ Colin echoed, a bit dazed. But feeling like any moment now he was going to be happy. So _very_ happy. Really just the very happiest he’d **_ever_** been.

And then Bradley stepped forward, and they were kissing, crushing each other up and completely squashing the sourdough loaf between them. Someone laughed as he passed them by, and a woman said fondly, ‘Oh, _boys_ …’

‘Let’s go home,’ Bradley said, still holding Colin close, and tucking his forehead in against Colin’s cheek.

‘What about that coffee?’

‘I’ve got everything I need right here. Let’s go home.’

Colin stretched and squirmed a little within the firm circle of Bradley’s arms. And he breathed, ‘I’m already there.’

♦


End file.
